The Few That Mattered
by Mrs Bella Riddle
Summary: Antonin Dolohov muses on the women of his life, including Bellatrix Lestrange. Bella/Antonin


This was for an exchange for Hogwarts is Home at Livejournal. This strange little fic is mostly a Bellatrix/Antonin fic. I imagine Antonin was born in 1938 (meaning he is 18ish when he accompanied Voldemort to get the DADA job) and so is about 13 years older than Bellatrix. I also imagine Gloria Fudge is Cornellius' sister and the mention of the policies of the muggle government refers to what was happening in the Soviet Union at the time. As well, the ending is meant to be ambiguous. I have one view about what it means, but I think others could have a different thought.

So enjoy :)

* * *

Antonin Dolohov had never been married nor had he been the type to have many long term relationships with women. It did not mean he did not have many women in his life, just that their appearance was always brief. There were only a few who gained any really importance in his mind.

First, there was the lovely Tamara Ivanova. He was only a boy in Durmstrang with a family fortune that had crumpled after the policies of the muggle tyranny. However, his blood was still pure and Miss Ivanova had seen something in him. They were only young: It started when he was sixteen and ended when he was eighteen. He had never even gotten under her skirt, but you always remember your first love and Tamara's soft lips and smooth skin were never forgotten by Antonin.

Then, there was Gloria Fudge: The first woman who he laid with on British shores. He was inexperienced then and she was slightly too open with her sexuality and her blood was a little tainted, but the memory of being with under her sheets while he still only spoke broken English remained imprinted on his mind.

Bellatrix Lestrange was another woman who he could never forget. When he first saw her, she was only a Black. At the tender age of twenty one, she took her first seat as the first woman to join the Inner Circle. He had been one of many to scoff and scorn the addition of the gentler sex to the table.

He had assumed there could only have been one reason why the Dark Lord would grant a woman such a position. All the men at the table could see Miss Black was quite a beauty and was probably enough of a slut to lift up her robes for the Dark Lord to get what she wanted.

When he was thoroughly thrashed in a duel by her, those views did decrease.

The year after, she went on to wed Rodolphus Lestrange and, by that time, he had not thought much of the new Mrs Lestrange, unless, of course, he was in the same room as her.

No one could ever fail to notice Bellatrix.

Even if you ignored her bold personality and her tendency to lash out about her views, you could not disregard her looks. Bellatrix was undeniably gorgeous with tresses of black locks that always caught the eye, flawless skin, crafted cheekbones and a body that had every man in the room staring.

It did not mean he would back down.

No, never.

It had all started when they were leaving the Dark Lord's residence after reporting on the outcome of a mission that had resulted in the death of two infamous Aurors.

He was the first out of the polished wooden doors as Bellatrix had stayed to linger a little longer in the Dark Lord's presence. He had not considered her until he heard her trailing along behind him.

"Dolohov," she snapped loudly as he heard her heeled boots click noisily on the stone steps. "Stop! Don't think you are leaving without listening to me."

He considered ignoring him. He even walked a few more feet before he concluded it may not be the wisest idea and turned around to face her. She would make him pay if he did not listen.

Bellatrix's face was flushed and her hair spun in the breeze after she had thrown off her hood. The black robes she wore did nothing to hide her hourglass figure. He could have wondered why she bothered to wear those robes for such a mission, instead he just admired the view.

"Yes?" he replied, his voice uninterested as he tipped an eyebrow. "What are you so intent on scolding me about?"

She hissed rather like an angry snake as she drew closer to him. He noted her hand twitched around her robe pocket and, while he did not reach for his own wand, he was prepared just in case.

"You made it seem like it was you who finished off Whitley! How dare you? You knew it was only because I distracted him and had already wounded him," she snarled angrily, her nostrils flaring.

"Oh is that what your problem is?" Instead of backing down he only laughed. "I told the Dark Lord the story. Was my story not accurate? I told him everything, including that you duelled Whitley and I fired the killing blow. Do you really think the Dark Lord could not make judgements about the story himself?"

Bellatrix fluttered on his words for a moment as she tried to recover herself. He already knew her anger had started to slip away.

"Fine," she snapped in a matter of fact tone. Glaring at him, she stalked past him. It was only when she had walked a few steps away from him when she turned around. "You did alright, Dolohov."

She did not say anything else as she turned to stalk away. He was a little surprised by the compliment mostly because she delivered it.

"You sound surprised," he called to her departing back.

She did not reply.

* * *

It was just another meeting when there was another chance encounter, this time of a different sort.

It had been a long and tedious discussion and he was feeling more than a little weary. It was also one of the rare occasions he had to admit to agreeing with Bellatrix.

Since he sat farthest from the door, he was one of the last to leave along with the lingering Bellatrix. Stepping into the entrance hall, he could hear the rain pelting down outside as he turned when he heard Bellatrix call for him again. Today she was not angry, but instead grinned like a sly cat.

Smirking, she nodded to him, "Follow me."

He was tempted to ignore her, but brought on by curiosity he followed her around the side of the house. He was not impressed to find his clothes quickly sodden through as the rain pelted down on them both. His clothes were sticking to his body, but then so was hers and that was not disagreeable.

They strode along one length of the house and turned around the corner where Bellatrix stopped. Leaning against the wall, he smirked up at her and opened his mouth to respond.

She beat him to it.

Her lips contacted with his. It was like someone had thrown another torrent of water on his head at the shock of the sensation. He had no idea what had motivated her, but he was not foolish enough to reject her. Their lips crashed together as the water turreted between their two bodies as the gap became smaller and Bellatrix pinned him against the wall.

Even to this day, Antonin can remember the feel of the curves of her body as his hand travelled into her robes and the undaunted moans and screams as he took her for the first time against that wall. They did not care about the wind, the rain or what they were doing was in public. They had only cared about their own pleasure. Then, when it was all done, Bellatrix had adjusted her robes, issued a quick word of phrase and was off.

Antonin had lingered to loiter in his smugness just a little longer.

* * *

It continued after that. His focus on Bellatrix only seemed to intensify and, as months turned to years, he knew she noticed that he tended to stick up for her more often that before.

He also saw other man did the same.

Husband aside, he was just another man who she toyed with. He wanted to think she was the same to him, but it was not true. Not really.

There had only been a few women he had really cared about in his life. Even less he had actually loved. He hated the fact she was now one of them.

He had never planned on informing her of that, but plans rarely eventuate.

The wind hollered outside as he held Bellatrix close as they both shook slightly after the outcome of their shared pleasure. She did not protest or shun him.

He knew why.

This might be the last night.

Tomorrow they would be thrown into the deep end. The mission had been in works for months, even years. The Ministry was crumpling, but everyone thought it needed one more push. The Aurors were its true protectors. There was the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and the Hit Wizards, yet everyone knew the Aurors were the key behind their strength. Without their Aurors, they had no hope.

So that was the plan. Strike where collaborations of Aurors were training and it was least expected it to knock out a huge portion of their strength.

However, they all knew it would be a risk. They were facing off against a large percentage of the Ministry's strength. They had assembled more Death Eaters than any other mission, but would it be enough?

Antonin knew a number of their colleagues would never return so he held Bellatrix close, buried his face into her hair and tried not to think about what morning would bring.

The strangest thing was she had agreed to be with him this last night. He knew he should not think this way, but he did.

A shuddering breath left him as he withdrew his face from her hair to meet her shining dark eyes. He wanted to say so many things. He knew he should not say any, yet he had to say something.

"You are so beautiful," he said quietly, breaking through the silence of the room with his voice still thick with his Russian roots.

It seemed a candle had been lit inside Bellatrix that had been slowly dying before. Her eyes lit up with merriment and her hand found his cheek, not to caress him, but to slap him lightly.

"You are silly, Antonin," she murmured, though he only found her lips twisted into a smile. Even as he opened his mouth to respond, he knew he hated himself, but the problem was he did not hate her.

"I love you."

If the room had been silent before, it was doubly so now. Bellatrix stared at him wide eyed for several long moments. His own heart stopped as he waited with shaky breath for a response.

He only got one: Laughter.

A scathing laugh left her gorgeous lips as she pulled away from him and let her scorn ring loud and clear. There was a gleam in her eye as she pulled away. He tried to cease her wrists to keep her close, but she drew away from him.

No one could keep down Bellatrix Lestrange.

Every sound that escaped her throat sent shivers down his body. Each unpleasant as the last as ice fell over him and sealed over his heart, yet it did not stop the painful burn that spread even with the ice engulfing him.

The slap was nothing.

The laughter was worse.

"Bellatrix," He finally managed to croak from the bed, but it did nothing as she had her back to him as she dressed. She was silent the whole time. He thought she would never speak to him again.

He was wrong.

As her hands closed around the door, she turned back to him, her face unusually pale. "Love is a weakness, Antonin."

Hours after the door closed, he had not stopped shacking as her words repeated themselves over and over again.

His Lord had said those words before, but never had it felt so painful then when was from the lips of Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

Both he and Bellatrix went on to survive the battle the next day and both of their hands were coated in victorious blood, but it did not change anything. She never looked at him the same way and he could never meet her eyes without hearing the echo of her laughter in his mind.

She went on to find another toy and he went on to search for another woman who could really matter.

Neither ever gained what they sought.


End file.
